Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Angola and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Kerrie Biddell to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reagan Youth,
Gang Starr,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Moleskins,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Angry Samoans,
Altered Images,
The Moody Blues,
Hashim,
The Sound,
Bad Manners,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Scrapy,
Alphaville,
Mars,
Rotary Connection,
D'Angelo,
Guru Guru,
Joe Finger,
Charles Mingus,
Man Parrish,
Bobby Byrd,
Bang On A Can,
Ronan,
Bobby Womack,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Dead C,
Saccharine Trust,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kas Product,
Lightning Bolt,
The Selecter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Malaria!,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ice-T,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tres Demented,
Niagra,
Eric Copeland,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sandy B,
Delon & Dalcan,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Whodini,
Joyce Sims,
Steve Hackett,
Liliput,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ituana,
Oblivians,
Agitation Free,
Cecil Taylor,
Jeff Mills,
Donald Byrd,
The Misunderstood,
Interpol,
Fad Gadget,
LL Cool J,
The Walker Brothers,
The Slits,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.